


The House Always Wins

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: He had never bothered to put a title to any previous relationship. Those who grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his machines were not worthy of such a thing. Alice had been wired up over a dozen times, without the promise of intimacy to persuade her, in the aid of his research and had never complained, so long as she had something decent to read. Yes, 'companion' seemed fitting, given the circumstances.





	The House Always Wins

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the war in 2060, when House is still walking around. House is about forty in this fic.

He raised an eyebrow, watching his companion light her post-breakfast cigarette with long, elegant fingers. Mr House had persuaded the just-barely ageing actress to take a proper meal rather than whisky and tobacco for the first time in three days. Whilst he did not regret this decision, there was something about the femme-fatale that had begun to make him suspicious. They had remained in a sort of stalemate intimacy-wise for a month and again, this did not bother Mr House, but it had proved... challenging for every other woman who had gained the privilege of staying at the Lucky 38.

He had never bothered to put a title to any previous relationship. Those who grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his machines were not worthy of such a thing. Alice had been wired up over a dozen times, without the promise of intimacy to persuade her, in the aid of his research and had never complained, so long as she had something decent to read. Yes, 'companion' seemed fitting, given the circumstances.

"You're staring again, Robert," Alice said, her once-smooth voice marred by years of smoking like a chimney. Her painted lips left a red crescent stain on the pearly white coffee mug, curling upwards at the edges into an enticing smirk. It was no secret that she enjoyed being the subject of his gaze - anyone's gaze, really - but as she placed the mug down on the coaster and looked at him through heavily made-up eyes, he realised he had been staring more than usual.

"I'm trying to discern whether there is a human being beneath the powder and bluster," he replied, taking sip of his Whiskey.

Alice sighed gently, smoke curling upwards from her cigarette. "There might have been, once," she told him and for the first time, he noticed how low the neckline of her dress was as she breathed. "I'm an actress, dear. You don't get to be credited in over a hundred movies without maintaining the facade off set. Besides..." she lifted the mug to her mouth once more, draining the gritty dregs from the bottom. "I've played so many roles that they all blur and become me as much as I do them."

House gave a short hum of acquiescence. "I suppose I should be grateful that you're not quite as high-maintenance as the newspapers claim."

She chuckled softly, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I need a break from the overacting every now and then."

The design of her dress was becoming more apparent the longer he looked. Usually, colours were the only thing he saw. She wore red mostly, as she was now, although the hem and neck were fringed with black lace, accompanied by a large emerald necklace he had gifted to her. Each breath caused the dress to swell a little, tightening around her chest, before she exhaled and the process began anew.

"You've been taking a break for an entire month," House said. Alice's smile fell away and revealed her displeasure.

"That sounds a lot like you want me to leave," she half-snapped. House reminded himself that she was renowned for her temper, although he had never seen it in person.

"You misunderstand," he told her. "The data you have provided will contribute significantly to my research. What I meant was that I was positive you'd have left of your own accord by this time. Most do."

Her million dollar smile full of mirth and mischief returned and in the morning sun, the green in her eyes became brighter. "Leave you?" she said, her tone and pitch deliberately exaggerated. "Never. You provide such interesting conversation, my dear."

"I'm curious abour your motives," he said. "It's highly unusual for a woman not to request that I share my bed with her."

Alice leaned back in her chair and laughed, head tilted skywards. His arrogance truly knew no bounds.

"Might I ask what's so funny?" he inquired irritably, brow raised and lip turned down.

She shook her head, waiting for the last remnants of merriment to fade before she could speak. "You look at me, don't you?" Alice stated.

"Forgive me. I assumed it was basic conversational etiquette to make eye contact with the person you're speaking to," Mr House said shortly with a frown.

Alice smiled, although more softly this time, as though the edge to the succubus within her had disappeared. "You don't only look at me when we're talking."

He could not deny that she was right. Whenever House attached the wires to her head, he observed the way she breathed a little more deeply when he came close. As the machines gathered data, he watched Alice's eyes skimming the pages of her beauty magazines to find an article of interest. Sometimes, he took to figuring out the rhythm of her foot as it tapped the air idly, a compulsive figiter by all accounts.

He had most definitely looked when she'd sat on the balcony one night, wearing one of his sweaters and nothing else to guard against the wind. Her cheeks had been paled by the moonlight, legs bare up to her mid-thigh and her long, dark hair caught up in the sharp breeze.

"The glaring lenses and sycophants aren't enough for you?" House asked, taking up his Whiskey glass once more as Alice sighed.

"The cameras are cold, inhuman," she replied. "Looking at a lense only reminds you of how far from your audience you really are. As for the sycophants, well..." she chuckled. "They're all the same."

"You're desire to be the centre of attention doesn't entirely fit with my schedule," he said. "And yet here you are, claiming that all you want is to be stared at like a renaissance painting."

Alice leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, breasts pressed more closely together. "If you're offering more than just stares, I never look a gift horse in the mouth."

"I'm offering no such thing."

He could be cruel in his clarity. Alice ignored it, unable to forget the smell of him that clung to her skin after she had worn that grey woollen sweater. He never inquired about his missing clothing and she was glad of it. Sleeping in the warmth of that sweater was a comfort like no other.

"That's a shame," she said, stubbing out her cigarette, rising from her seat and slinking towards him like a cat. She stepped between his knees and the edge of the table, the glint in her eye daring him to give her what she wanted. "I wore my best dress, just for you."

He said nothing, glaring at her with his hands rooted firmly to his sides. A flutter of her long eyelashes yielded no results, his expression unchanging from the mildly annoyed one he'd held for the past few minutes. Alice was willing to take it a step further, to make him realise how much she needed him. An uptight robot fetishist in a world of alcoholics and average Joes. Oddly enough, he was exactly what she'd been missing.

Straddling his thighs, she lowered herself onto his lap. They were so close that they breathed the same air. Whiskey and cigarettes. Alice kissed him, just a gentle touch of her lips against his, but he remained stoic. Never before had they been so close that she could see the intensity in his cold, green eyes.

Her kisses trailed along his cheek, down his tightened jaw and to the tendons in his neck. She sucked a mark over his pulse, slowly nipping and licking to see if he would react at all, but he didn't so much as intake breath, so Alice rolled her hips against his, a final resort that at last prompted a short, shaky sigh.

That was all the conformation she needed. She trusted that he would stop her if he really was uncomfortable. Reaching between their bodies, palms sweating, she umbuckled his belt, her underwear already damp. Unzipping his trousers and keeping a close eye on his face to watch for any discomfort, Alice pulled his half-hard member from his briefs and House's hands came up to grip her hips. That in itself was almost enough to trigger her release; he was warm, his touch a rare thing indeed, igniting flames within her that had died out when she agreed to this strange, quasi relationship.

Then again, it was 2060. Perhaps it wasn't as strange as it would have been twenty years ago. Times changed, this she knew, or the name Alice Forsythe would still conjure images of the pretty young thing in sexy lingerie. To say the camera never lied was untrue; fifteen years after her first appearance in a starring role as the wife of a gangster, her features were no longer as smooth, her eyes did not hold quite the same brightness and her thighs did not quite move in the way she wanted, but under studio lights, she became young again, despite how much time had flown by. She imagined House's eccentricities were not so unusual now as they may have been when she first started acting.

Slightly heavier breathing proved he was not entirely immune to her attentions as Alice palmed his cock. Her seductive smile returned and she became a movie star once more, although without a script, she had to take it one step at a time. Testing, teasing, carefully stroking and listening to the way he exhaled in pleasure. She had missed this kind of contact. She wondered if he had, too.

"Make this quick, if you would, Alice," House said, hands rising to her slender waist. "I've little patience for long, slow affairs."

Yes, she could imagine that was true. He was a patient man, but only up to a point. He preferred to get things over and done with, always felt a compulsive need to continue his work. Anything else was an annoyance.

"As you say, dear," Alice replied with a sweetness so false it could've made a kitten cringe.

She was wet enough by this time that she could take him without foreplay - just barely. Lifting her hips and pulling her underwear aside, she sank down until the head disappeared. She had to remind herself to be patient, not to let her excitement get the better of her. Taking another inch, she paused until the stretch began to feel more comfortable, although surprisingly, House seemed to notice Alice wasn't going quite as quickly as either of them wanted and, with a roll of his eyes, pressed his thumb to her clit. Alice gasped and her back arched at the unexpected pleasure.

"You could have just asked," he said. "Instead of clinging to that damned stubbornness of yours." 

She could not reply, eyes half closed as she began to take him further. The stretch became nothing but bliss, leaving her breathless by the time their hips met and she had taken all of him. They were both still for a long moment, allowing Alice to become accustomed to being full up after her hiatus from intimacy. His gaze had lost some it's hardness and his grip on her waist tightened a little, fingers almost twitching with something like anticipation. When Alice found the clarity of thought to observe his expression once more, she found herself as infinitely perplexed and enthralled by him as she had been when they first met. 

When his brows pulled together, it reminded her that there was no room for sentiment. She began to move, creating a steady rhythm of rises and falls, clinging to his shoulders as she panted against his lips.

"Faster, Alice," he commanded. "I'm losing my patience."

Warmth spread between her thighs at the sharpness in his tone. There was a part of her that craved to be told what to do, needed to feel that she didn't have to be in charge of her own life. House gave her that, gifted her with a lack of responsibility she could not remember having. 

Increasing the speed of her movements, Alice was overcome with sensation. Her arms curled around his back, head tucked into his neck as she swore she could hear his pulse pounding in time with her own. She resisted the urge to run her fingers through his immaculate black hair, knowing that such a transgression would be a step too far for House. There were certain imperfections he would tolerate, so long as it was nothing to do with his appearance. He was vain, really. Alice hadn't ever thought about it much before, but she imagined it must have taken a great deal of preening in front of the mirror to look as neat and crisp as he always did.

As the coil in her gut began to tighten towards an inevitable crescendo, his name tumbled from her lips in desperate whisper. She knew that begging with people like House only made them feel more powerful, but she couldn't help pleading with him. For what, she did not know; Alice was doing most of the work, rising and falling on his cock, although the fingers squeezing her waist told of the pleasure that he felt. She lifted her head as she moaned, so close to her peak that she could barely draw breath.

When it happened, the room disappeared. As warmth and pleasure bloomed low in her gut and spread through every nerve, making her toes and fingers curl, everything stood still. She could not hear or see or think for the few beautiful moments her orgasm lasted and only House broke the bubble of absolutely nothing but bliss, breathing a short sigh over her collarbone as he reached his own end, buried inside her.

Soft panting echoed as shapes began to form again. Alice became aware of the white tiled floor, the smell of cigarettes and her now slightly less stern companion. He gave an exhausted sigh, seemingly losing his composure as one of his hands left her side and he rubbed his forehead.

"Brilliant," he muttered. "The DNA that will form the future of my empire, carried by a woman who spends her entire life looking at her own reflection..."

Alice found the energy to chuckle and wrap her arms around his shoulders. "Oh, Robert, our children will be smart and beautiful."

"And what exactly are you adding to the gene pool?"

She laughed. She simply couldn't help it. There was no one like Robert House, no one with his confidence, his arrogance, his strange sense of humour that defied all social etiquette.

"The ability to go outside every once in a while," Alice said, "rather than living as a recluse."

The founder of Rob. Co huffed. "I am ensuring the future of the Strip and mankind."

Alice leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and smirking. "I'm ensuring your assets stay in the family."

He frowned at that. Still, House supposed it would be more profitable to leave his achievements in trusted hands and carefully sculpted minds. Better than letting Anthony get hold of what rightfully belonged to the one and only Robert House.

**Author's Note:**

> House is an incredibly interesting character with an equally interesting history. The Fallout Wiki details his past and I couldn't resist writing this after reading about his assholic half-brother. XD


End file.
